


Daisies

by lholt34



Category: Smallville
Genre: Clex - Freeform, Grinding, M/M, Making Out, Porn Without Plot, Rutting, Smut-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lholt34/pseuds/lholt34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clark Kent has the ability to turn Lex Luthor into a walking cliché, albeit a very horny one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daisies

Growing up, I learned, Take whatever you want, from whoever you want. As long as it stays out of the papers, who cares what happens to the other guy? I always hated that part of myself that accepted the so-called ‘truth.’ And sure, I’ve taken some big strides away from that, as he assures me every day, but I can’t believe that on anyone’s lips. So when I kiss him the first time, I try to taste what he really wants to say to me, but I give him as much of _me_ as I can, pushing past his defenses first, showing him the offer. Then I pull back, just enough to entice him, and let him take whatever he wants.

We’re walking through the woods outside Smallville, it’s raining. He cradles my jaw in both hands, and something tells me that he could easily crush my skull with those hands, that he could tighten the fingers gently pressed below my ears and snap bones. The thought doesn’t scare me, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my body to his, and let out an undignified sound I thought was beyond my vocal range.

He pulls back slightly, gazes at me. I see shock flare in his blue-green eyes, and I feel a moment’s satisfaction—it’s about time I’m the one doing the surprising. He whirls around, looking for witnesses, I’m sure, and I chuckle and thank whatever gods exist that I had the forethought to take him somewhere where nobody could see us. A similar thought seems to dawn on him, and he turns back to me and says, “You planned this.”

His voice is low and rough; I want to shiver at the sound of it. I want to kiss him silent again until his lips are bruised. Instead, I shrug, feign nonchalance. I have some self-control, contrary to popular belief. I say, “You can’t blame me, what’s a man without a dream?”

He laughs and does exactly what I want—leans in and presses his mouth to mine. But he pulls away again, too soon. “Will you be honest with me, Lex?” he asks. He begins to walk away from me, off into the trees. I feel a quick pang of resentment, but swallow it down and refrain from pulling him back onto me. _Give, don’t take,_ I remind myself.

“Absolutely,” I answer, walking after him. Rain trickles down through the canopy leaves, soaking our clothes, slicking my scalp and turning his hair to dark, wet tendrils. Thunder rumbles overhead. I idly wonder about the chances of tornadoes, but I keep following him. I’d follow him to the ends of the earth.

“What’s the next part of the dream?” he asks casually. He doesn’t even turn around to look at me, just keeps walking. I can only imagine the expression on his face right now, calm and collected, maybe a small smile.

I pause, force my feet to continue moving. Well, if there’s one thing to know about me, it’s that I’m okay with deceit. A little, often when it’s in my own best interests if I’m being brutally honest, but I don’t like to think down that road. The point is, lying doesn’t bother me, but I am being one hundred percent honest when I tell him, “I planned to seduce you, and maybe take you back to the mansion. If I get lucky.” Emphasis on the _get_. I hope he picks up on that.

“And how’d you plan to do that?” he asks. We step over a fallen log, dripping ferns brush against my leg.

Honesty, right? But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t mix in a bit of wryness. “With my good looks and charm, Clark, I’m surprised you had to ask.”

“Charm?” he asks, skeptically, and there’s a laugh in his voice. I smirk and tap him on the shoulder. He turns to face me, expression blasé, and a grin blossoms on his face when I pull a (slightly wilted, but it’s the thought that counts, right?) bouquet of white daisies out of my interior jacket pocket.

I offer them to him, and feel a little silly, but the look on his face when he takes the flowers makes it worth it. He looks up at me from under his thick, dark eyelashes. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks softly, shyly.

_Take, take, take everything I have._ “Of course,” I say, and the words are barely out before he crashes his mouth onto mine, tongue forcing between my lips, hands pressing over my chest, my shoulders. Somehow, I’m backed up against a tree, somehow, I don’t mind. He stops his exploration of my body and pushes his hands on either side of my head, for balance, I suppose, but frankly I’m not thinking much. My fingers are tangled in the wet knots of his hair. His mouth is greedy on mine, and it feels strangely pleasant to be giving what he wants so badly.

I don’t know how long it takes for him to moan, to grind his body onto mine, I buck my hips reflexively, and oh, _God_ , he’s hard in his jeans, which brings on the realization that so am I. He breaks away and looks down, then back up at me, a sheepish expression on his face. I’m gasping for air, while he’s hardly winded, his hair tousled above those mesmerizing eyes.

“It’s kind of wet out here,” he says, and I honestly don’t understand how he’s capable of coherent thought.

“There are things we can do standing up,” I offer, and were I not turned on out of my mind, I’d hate how needy I sound. I’d suggest going to the mansion, but I don’t know if I can make it that far.

“Like?” he asks, puzzled.

I stare at him, incredulous. “You’ve never done this?”

He flushes red—redder than he already is, anyway—and looks away. “Well, I don’t know, I’ve just never had the chance to get anywhere with….”

“A guy?” I say with a smug smile. I’d expected as much, he used to be so in love with Lana that it’s a miracle he’s even going along with this.

“Anyone,” he says in a small voice, and my smile turns to a look of amazement.

“Clark Kent, are you telling me that you’re a virgin?”

“Shut up,” he says, laughing, but he’s still blushing. He looks unbelievably pretty like this, wet and horny and just a tad bit embarrassed.

“No, nothing to be ashamed of,” I say, grinning. The little voice telling me to _give_ seems very far away. I hook a finger in his belt, draw him close until he’s pressed up against me again. I look straight into his eyes, the pupils dilated so that his iris is little more than a thin rim of sea-foam. “I’ll teach you.”

I slide my hands down to his ass, forcing his hips against mine. He looks a little startled and I swallow a smile. I start out slow, force myself to be restrained, grinding against his hard-on. He moans and thrusts his hips forward, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from whimpering. I didn’t even think I was capable of whimpering.

I keep the pace slow, teasing him, pushing him. His breathing is fluttery, erratic. _Jesus, I won’t be able to do this for long if you keep making those sounds,_ I think. When he thrusts against me again, I can’t help it, a soft little high sound pushes out of my throat, and I push back this time. I move my hands from his ass to the front of his jeans, slip my fingers into the waistband of his briefs. He groans and starts moving faster, and despite it all I find myself surprised that collected little farm boy could ever devolve into _this_ , making all kinds of noises, hot and hard and moaning for me. It still feels like he’s holding back, the way he did when we were kissing, but that makes it even better, like I’m being protected.

When he follows my lead and slides a hand between my thighs, I’m about two seconds away from coming in my boxers. I feel like I’m back in high school, always horny, looking for anyone to relieve the tension. I’ve felt that way for a while now, since I realized that my feelings for him might go a little beyond the normal bounds of friendship. He makes me feel like I’m walking on air, like I could do anything. Not to mention, at least once a week I stand in the shower picturing those clear eyes dark with lust, imagining tangling my hands in his hair. Now it’s all real, every bit of it.

He lets out a strangled sound and almost collapses against my chest, and at the sight of the brave and noble Clark Kent falling to pieces in front of me, I follow quickly, with a muttered, “Jesus Christ, Clark.” For a moment, all I can hear is my own heartbeat. Then it fades, replaced by the sound of rain, and our breathing returning to normal.

He takes a step back and runs a hand over his mouth. His face is still flushed, his hair disheveled. I’m sure I look a wreck, my boxers soaked, my lips swollen. I wait for him to say something, anything, and when he does, it’s just a faint, “Wow.”

I laugh breathlessly. “Not too bad, huh?”

He can only manage to shake his head, still catching his breath. He turns to me, asks, “Was I….I mean, did I do it right?”

I grin. Beyond _right_ , I think. “Yeah, you did pretty well.”

He takes a couple deep breaths. “What does this mean? For us?”

I chuckle. Ever an upstanding guy, Clark Kent. “Well, if you’d like, it could mean we’re dating,” I say.

He smiles. “That’d be nice,” he says. He stoops to collect the daisies that fell sometime after he first kissed me, and once he’s gathered them all, he holds out his free hand. I stare at him for a moment before I process what he wants me to do, and I intertwine my fingers with his. My boyfriend, my Clark. I didn’t need to take him, he gave me himself.

We walk through the woods, a bald man and a bashful, beautiful teenage boy, wet in every way and we could care less. He squeezes my hand and I smile at him. I think, _You don’t have to stop at what I have, you can take everything I am. I’m not a good man, I know. But with you by my side, I know that I can be._

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first attempt at writing smut, even though it was barely smut compared to other fics. Oh well, I tried. Suggestions and criticisms are welcome!


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